


When John's Away

by Aris_Silverfin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Overeating, belly stuffing, feederism, round tummy, stuffed!sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a Prompt: Sherlock and John skyping and Sherlock stuffing himself on cam (under John's orders) until he can't heave himself out of the chair to get more food.</p><p>John's away at a conference and Sherlock claims he's too bored to eat. John decides he needs a bit of discipline from his captain, even if he is rather far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When John's Away

Sherlock sighed moodily, curling up and facing the back of the sofa in his usual sulking pose. The trouble was that having a good sulk wasn't nearly as interesting when there was no one around to be sulked _at_. He wished John would come home from that idiotic medical conference already. But he wasn't due back until next Tuesday. Sherlock sighed and uncurled, now staring up at the ceiling again. His stomach burbled cautiously, insisting on reminding him that sustenance was a daily requirement. Boring. Dull. Why did Sarah have to send John? _His_ John.

His mobile buzzed angrily against the coffee table, rattling a half-drunk cup of tea from yesterday. The detective gave a very put upon sigh and flopped his hand over to retrieve it. His face lit up however once he saw who it was that was contacting him.

_Hey, love. I'm done with my first day so I'm at the hotel. Want to do a video call? - John  
_

Sherlock eagerly sent of a reply in the affirmative and then turned to grab his laptop. He plopped it onto his slim stomach and then shifted so that he could prop his head against the sofa's armrest as he turned it on and selected the icon. Within a few minutes, a window popped up to tell him that John was calling.

"John."

"Hey, Sherlock, how was your day?" John asked, still in dress trousers and a button up, his hair swept back neatly from his day at the conference. Sherlock's eyes swept hungrily over him. The corner of his mouth twitched as John undid his top two buttons and loosened his tie.

"Exceedingly dull," complained Sherlock, a small pout finding its way onto his lips, "I've nothing on at the moment. The last experiment was a failure."

John smiled slightly. "So you've just been laying around on the sofa all day in a strop?"

"... yes," Sherlock admitted, and it was worth it to see John's face light up in laughter.

"Have you eaten?"

Sherlock hesitated, thinking a moment, then shook his head slightly. "No. I haven't."

The doctor sighed and Sherlock looked away.

"Come on, love, we've talked about this," John said fairly, "You promised you'd try to do a bit better. Keep yourself healthy."

"Yes, yes, I know," replied Sherlock, still not looking at the screen. He sighed, then said in a small voice, "It's just no fun when you're not here."

There was a pause, then "I'm here now. Sort of."

Sherlock looked back at the screen if only to allow John to see when he rolled his eyes. "Hardly _here,_ John."

"Sherlock."

And there it was. That slight shortness of the syllables, that clipping them into perfect line, giving them a finality and brusqueness in a tone that warned against any disobedience, that it would take no prisoners. Sherlock immediately felt his mouth go quite dry as he met John's eyes on his monitor. That voice meant only one thing. His captain had arrived. It sent a pleasant chill down his spine, caused his heart rate to rise. This was all completely ridiculous, but that thought was quickly silenced. John was just silent and watching him, a stern expression on his face.

Sherlock took a deep breath then answered, "Yes, Captain?" and agreed to their game.

"Am I right in believing that you haven't followed your orders? The ones I expressly gave you before I left?" John asked and his voice is stern, commanding. Sherlock quails, forgetting for a moment that those 'orders' had basically been 'take care of yourself,' 'get some rest,' and 'please remember to eat something, yeah?' but he was quite distracted by his lover's change in posture and tone.

He swallowed again. "Er, yes, sir. I am... sorry."

"Shut it," John snapped and Sherlock's jaw clamped shut, "What do you think we should do about that?"

"I... I don't know, Captain."

John gave him a long considering look. Sherlock shivered with anticipation. His stomach growled hopefully. John smirked, apparently able to hear it even through his speakers.

"Sherlock. I want you to ring up our favorite Chinese."

"Yes, sir."

"Order two mains and a side."

"O-okay, but sir-"

"Now."

Sherlock picked up his mobile and did so, ordering a shrimp and broccoli and sweet and sour pork along with rice. He hung up and then looked to John who nodded with approval.

"Very good," he said, "But I think you'll need something to tide you over until it gets here. Go to the kitchen and fetch the rest of that nutella and cut up an apple to dip it in. Has to be a little healthy, can't have you too fat and lazy to get through your training."

There was a slight purr in John's voice now and that in combination with the Captain's last sentence had color rising to swiftly stain Sherlock's cheeks.

"Yes, sir. You're right, sir," Sherlock replied before moving the laptop to the coffee table and going to fetch his appetizer. He brought the food out and began eating it, loading each slice with an exorbitant amount of the chocolatey spread.

"Feeling better?" asked John, and it was in his John voice again as the doctor smiled at him.

"Hmm," said Sherlock happily, sucking the nutella from a slice before dipping it back in for more.

"Oi, I sometimes eat that too you know," John complained with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. We exchange bodily fluids often enough," Sherlock answered with a wink.

"You're so romantic."

"I try."

They chatted about John's conference as Sherlock continued to eat. Soon the doorbell rang from below. Sherlock tensed with excitement as he watched a change come over his kind cuddly doctor again.

"Was that the doorbell?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Go and fetch it then. Grab yourself a soda as well."

Sherlock dashed off downstairs, accepted the heavy bag of takeaway, paid, and then hurried back up. He deposited the bag next to his laptop. then dug out a large bowl, silverware, and the soda John had ordered him to. He returned to the sofa, settling down and setting his things out.

"Am I to eat it all, Captain?" he asked, feeling his stomach flutter slightly. Either it was excited or dreading what he was about to put it through.

"Every last bite, Sherlock. I'll be watching," John directed, tilting his chin up and giving Sherlock a considering gaze. "Go on then. Stuff yourself silly like I know you want to."

"Mm, yessir," said Sherlock, grinning and breaking character just a little with his excitement. He unpacked his food, poured the big container of rice into his bowl and then dumped his serving of shrimp and broccoli over it before tucking in. Oh God, was that good. He positively groaned as the first hot salty bite entered his mouth, the savory sauce coating his tongue and giving flavor to the fluffy rice.

John hummed in approval. "Good. You enjoy that. All of it."

Sherlock was happy to comply. He tore into his meal, his body responding immediately, telling him yes, this is what it had been trying to tell him for the past fifteen hours. He was hungry. He needed to eat. Fill his belly. Make it warm and heavy with food. Sherlock groaned softly again in between mouthfuls of rice, tender fat shrimp, perfectly cooked broccoli, crisp water chestnuts and sweet carrots. He spread the thick sauce over more of the rice and shoveled that down as well. It all tasted so good, he hardly realised half of his bowl was gone. All the while John was softly encouraging him, watching him, making sure not a grain went to waste.

"That's it. You're doing very well. I think you deserve a reward. Have some of that soda now," John said, giving Sherlock a small smile as the detective finally looked up from his meal, almost panting as he muffled a couple of belches. His stomach was feeling pleasantly full now, warm, curving out gently under his ribcage. But it could hold more. There was still food left.

"Thank you, Captain," Sherlock replied before taking up the soda bottle, opening it, and then swallowing it down in grateful gulps. He finished half, then burped again, humming and running a hand down to his stomach.

"Manners, Piggy, am I going to have to teach you all over again?"

Sherlock jumped and blushed, then gave John a sly sort of grin. "Maybe, you've been gone rather a long time, Captain."

John gave him a steely look. "The next container now, Sherlock."

The detective did as asked, pulling out the unopened carton and emptying it over his remaining rice. He dug into that as well, the sauce tangy and dancing on his tongue with just a hint of spicyness, the meat hot underneath the crispy fried dough, the vegetables crisp and fresh, peppers biting, onion sweet, pinneapple complementing the sauce perfectly. Sherlock was getting to be quite a bit fuller now, the carbonation in his drink working to fill him up faster. He burped again, finding the pressure in his belly lessened slightly and resumed eating with gusto.

"Sherlock, this is your final warning," John snapped.

Sherlock looked up indignantly, his lips orange with the sauce. He licked them, "But, John, how could I possibly-"

"Faster. Then you'll be chugging down the rest of that soda. And if I hear any more disgusting hoggish noises from you..."

"What?" asked Sherlock, trying to sound rebellious, but only succeeding in sounding really rather excited and breathless.

"Let's just hope you won't have to find out shall we?" said John, leaning back impressively and watching him still. "Eat."

And so Sherlock ate, and ate, and bite and chewed and swallowed everything down, wiping his fingers around the bowl to catch every last grain of rice and speck of sauce. He hummed indulgently as he sucked at his fingers, feeling replete, content, and a bit overfull. His stomach was round now, pushing out against his t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Enjoying yourself, glutton?" John asked and Sherlock's eyes slide lazily open to look at him.

"Yes. Cap-"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Sherlock blinked. Oh, the soda. He hastily reached for it, grunting as his belly was squashed a bit against his leg. He slumped back with a sigh, then lifted it to his lips and began drinking it down, one hand perched atop his belly. The flesh was beginning to feel rather tight and decidedly rounder. He couldn't resist giving it a little rub as he filled it just a bit more.

"Feeling nice and fat now?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded, setting the empty bottle aside. He belched, then froze. Oh, he wasn't supposed to do that.

There's a dark chuckle from his laptop. "Well now, Piggy. Ate so much you couldn't hold it in, hm? I want you to go find another and bring it here. Grab that pack of chocolate biscuits as well. Double time."

Sherlock groaned, not really wanting to get up right now. Even if it was for some delicious light little biscuits.

"Sherlock."

The detective looked at his monitor. John was giving him a very dangerous smile.

"I believe I told you to do something. Get that arse in gear or I might well have to feed you ice cream until you pop when I get home."

Sherlock shivered, suddenly assaulted with the mental image of John spoon feeding him, emptied cartons all around, his own belly huge and pale and distended onto his thighs. He gave a low groan at that, rubbing at his belly, wishing it were bigger. Bigger yes. He heaved himself up and wandered off to the kitchen. He found another soda, then pulled out the box of the biscuits that John had mentioned.

He sat down with a sigh again.

"How many biscuits am I having, sir?"

"All of them. Eat up."

Sherlock regarded the package. Well, surely he could manage that. He opened them and popped one of the little delights into his mouth. It very nearly melted on his tongue, leaving a strong rich taste behind that was too quickly fading. He had another and another. This would be no punishment at all. They were so light!

But it turned out they were significantly less light when you'd had close to twenty of them. And soda on top of that. And two mains of Chinese with a side.

Sherlock groaned, rubbing his belly as it gurgled at him, now beginning to peek out of his pajamas.

"Oh, mm, John... these are mmph so good. But I'm full... I'm so full."

"Is the box empty?"

"No..."

"Keep eating, then."

Sherlock looked over at John, smiling as he noted the way the other man wet his lips as he leaned in closer to the monitor, a slight flush visible as it crept into his face. Aroused. Wonderful.

The detective sighed and crammed more of the biscuits into his mouth, huffing as his stomach began to protest. He rubbed at it to soothe it.

"Wish you were here," he mumbled.

John sighed, "Yeah, me too. Come on. Nearly there, love."

Sherlock tilted his head back, shacking the box to pour the last of the crumbly sweets into his mouth. Then he tossed the box aside and swallowed down the rest of his drink. He pressed into his belly experimentally, hissing as it objected. He rucked up his shirt a bit and gave it a few prods. So tight, and round, and he felt really wonderfully fat as well.

"Hmmph, are you pleased, Captain?" he asked, framing his belly with his hands. He smirked as John wet his lips again.

"Very nearly. But I think there's something with your name on it at the back of the second shelf of the refrigerator," said John with a smirk of his own. Sherlock moaned, looking down at his belly, hefting it lightly in his hands.

"F-for urp me?" he asked, muffling a burp almost too late.

"Yeah. Just for you. Go fetch it," said John encouragingly, still gazing hungrily at Sherlock through the screen. Sherlock huffed and grunted as he bent and then pushed himself to his feet. Then he waddled into the kitchen, huffed as he bent again and rummaged around for his treat. He pulled out a small container with his name on it and popped the lid open. His tongue wet his lips despite the way his stomach was gurgling angrily around his full meal.

Surely he had room for this: a perfect slice of the creamiest looking raspberry cheescake he had ever seen, drizzled with dark chocolate on top and a matching dark chocolate cookie crust at the bottom. Sherlock carried it back and sat down.

"Ah, good you found it," purred John, smiling, "Like it?"

"It looks very good. Thank you," Sherlock replied, staring down at the big slice of decadent dessert. Oh, he was going to feel full after this. He already was of course, but this would really take the cake.

"What are you waiting for then? Eat."

Sherlock swallowed, then lifted his fork and collected his first bite. It was absolutely heavenly. But _fuck_ it was rich. He managed the first three bites without too much of a problem, eating much more slowly now.

"Go on," John goaded, "It's for you. Enjoy."

"Too full..."

"Nah, you've had this much before . Or close to it at least," John murmured, his voice growing rather husky, "You're getting so big, Sherlock. Just look at you. Fat and round. Feels good yeah?"

"Y-yes," Sherlock panted, throwing his head back a minute and trying to take some pressure off his belly. "So good, John."

"You look it too," his doctor murmured, "Come on, more. It's just a few more bites."

Sherlock dug his fork back into the cheese cake and muscled through it until he was a little more than half way. The ne paused, groaning and rubbing at his aching stomach.

"Just a bit more, come on. You can do it. Your belly's just going to have to get a bit bigger, stretch around it all."

Sherlock nodded, then stuffed more into his mouth. Then more again. He tugged his pajama trousers down and his shirt up, exposing his round bulging belly shamelessly, reveling in how tight and heavy it felt, how much he had eaten how incredibly _fat_ he felt after all his indulgences.

"J-John..."

"Yeah, you're amazing, love. Just one more bite."

"I can't-"

"Just one little bite, Sherlock. Eat it. For me."

And he did. Then he positively moaned, clutching his stomach, arching back at the intensity of the sensations. He panted and slid his hands along the bloated sides of it, explored the stretched navel and shuddered as he teased himself.

"Oh, fuck , I wish you were home," he growled, hands kneading, roaming and rubbing at his overstuffed belly.

"Jesus, so do I, Sherlock," John murmured, sounding thoroughly frustrated. Sherlock glanced over with food-coma glazed eyes. He couldn't help but see the hand of a certain doctor pressing and moving slightly in the vicinity of his lap.

The detective grinned and moaned even more unabashedly, sliding down against the sofa, his belly poking up as he continued rubbing and worshipping it.

"John, oh, I think I ate- brr-ah, too much. God, just look at me."

John gave a little gasp and a groan of his own.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm looking, you're so gorgeous, love. Christ, can you even get up around that belly?"

Sherlock smiled, huffing and panting. He grunted as he tried to reach around his great dome of belly. He could hardly move at all." No. I'm... I'm stuck. T-together you think?"

"Definitely," agreed John, and he began pumping his arm faster, leaning back in his chair. Sherlock gazed at the screen hungrily. The knowledge that _he_ did this to Captain John Hamish Watson, well that was intoxicating enough by itself, with or without the belly.

And so, not long after, both were spent and lounging in their respective chairs or sofas, Sherlock hiccuping now and again. The detective was about to doze off when John's voice came from his laptop again.

"I love you so much."

Sherlock giggled. It was something that only seemed to happen post-coitus.

"I love you too," he replied.

"Hm, hate to bring our night to an end, but I have to get up pretty early tomorrow," John said with a yawn.

"It's fine," said Sherlock, waving his hand vaguely. He turned carefully onto his side, wincing as his stomach complained at the shift. He looked at his lover, looking rather soft and relaxed now. Kind cuddly John. He smiled. "I suppose this is goodnight then. Thanks for dinner."

John chuckled, well, giggled as well. That made Sherlock smile a bit more. "Thanks for the show," the doctor replied, he stretched lightly, his bad shoulder catching a bit. "But yeah, I ought to get some sleep. Think you can eat something tomorrow."

"Maybe," allowed Sherlock, with a smirk.

"You gluttonous git," said John fondly, smiling back, "But come one, at least promise me some toast in the morning. This feast and famine thing isn't healthy."

"Fine," said Sherlock lazily, "It's very fun though."

"Yeah, okay it is," admitted John with another laugh. There was a pause and then. "Goodnight, love. I'll see you Tuesday."

"See you Tuesday," Sherlock replied sleepily, "Sleep well, John."

The detective fell into a doze soon after, before John could bring himself to sign off. He just watched him for a short time, then went and got into bed, letting his laptop run out of power on its own. His lover slept peacefully on the screen, a hand resting on the side of his rounded belly.


End file.
